


dalek dalek lemon dalek

by slavetohiscat



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: British Politics, Crack, Crack Crossover, F/M, London, Swearing, Westminster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slavetohiscat/pseuds/slavetohiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Thick of It / Doctor Who crack crossover ficlet in which the new regeneration of Dr Who is Malcolm Tucker. Written before Peter Capaldi was cast...</p>
            </blockquote>





	dalek dalek lemon dalek

The Right Honourable Nicola Murray, MP, left Parliament after PMQs by cutting through Portcullis House and nabbing a taxi speeding down Bridge Street.

Since stepping down as Leader of the Opposition, leaving by the main entrance had become increasingly undesirable. The jibes from press members had died down soon enough, but the indifference that replaced them chilled Nicola to her very core. Better to sneak out like a camera-weary celebrity than to be reminded yet again of her irrelevance.

The taxi zoomed along Westminster Bridge in the general direction of Nicola’s London residence, grinding up a fine mist from the rainwater on the road.

"I’ve never driven a fucking taxi before," said the driver, twisting around in his seat to grin manically at Nicola. "Isn’t this a thrill?"

"Watch the road for God’s sake, Malcolm!"

"Who’s Malcolm?"

"Aren’t you?"

"I’m the fucking Doctor. Pleased to meet you. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’m trying to drive here." He turned back to the road pointedly.

Malcolm had disappeared mysteriously after his… deposition. There was much whispered speculation as to where he’d end up: peace keeping in the Middle East, an honorary bishopric, maybe he’d actually literally retire. Nobody had even joked that he’d buy a taxicab. Evidently he’d come back to terrorise the party from beyond the political grave.

Nicola was not thrilled by this turn of events. She asked Malcolm politely to pull over, inwardly cursing that she’d given him her home address before she’d realised who he was.

"Not a good idea, honey bum. We’re being chased by a toilet plunger with territory issues."

The man had clearly, having run out of people to verbally abuse, turned in on himself and gone completely barmy. Nicola yanked at the door handle, but it wouldn’t catch. Malcolm stamped viciously on the accelerator,throwing Nicola back into her seat.

"This isn’t funny, Malcolm. I’m starting to feel sick-" Nicola was cut short by the roof of the taxi being blown off as Malcolm rounded a corner.

Through the gaping hole in the cab roof, she saw the Dalek chasing them on a motorbike. It flashed triumphantly, closing in inch by inch. “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”

Nicola was sick. All over that advert for investment hunting that she’d always thought intriguing but never been bothered to read.

"Now I don’t want to alarm you, but you’re so fucking beige I don’t think it’s possible so I’ll just come out and say it. On three, I need you to jump out of the car and into the Thames." They rounded another corner onto Lambeth Bridge, narrowly avoiding another volley of plasma rays from their pursuant Dalek.

"I’m really not-"

"One."

Malcolm accelerated madly over the bridge, scattering cars recklessly left and right. Nicola cowered in the back seat, hair buffeted wildly by the wind.

"Two."

He slammed down the brakes and swerved, bringing the taxi to a standstill against the bridge’s safety rail. The Dalek careered into them, gun arm concertinaed into itself by the hard shell of the vehicle.

"Fucking three!"

Malcolm grabbed Nicola by the arm and yanked her over the side of the taxi. There was no way she was going to jump. Not even Malcolm Tucker could make her jump into the Thames outside the fucking Houses of Parliament.

Of course Malcolm cannonballed in anyway and didn’t let go of Nicola. Teetering for a moment on the side of the bridge, she plunged downwards after him.

 _I’ve never held his hand before_ , she mused, time slowing down, blood rushing in her ears.

Nicola braced herself for impact and—THUMP—landed face first on Malcolm’s bony stomach. She leapt off him. “This isn’t the Thames. Where’s the Thames? What have you done with the Thames? Am I dead?”

Malcolm was already racing around the strange gothic room they found themselves in, pulling and prodding a series of intricate clockwork machines emerging from the walls at odd intervals.

"We’re still above the Thames, don’t worry, though not for long. We just landed in my fuck-off space ship."

"You’re joking."

"Welcome to the fucking Tardis. You seem like a bit of a wet tampon, but seeing as you’re here—when would you like to go?”


End file.
